Game Log 01
The Vision (or What Came Before) The priestess of Ernalda walked along a lake, trying to center herself after a contentious Council meeting that was running late into the night. She was a believer in Starbrow's cause, the cause they all believed in, but she wearied of the endless arguments about how to take the fight to the Lunars or even if they should do so. And that was a simple discussion compared to the defense of Sartar from incursions or even keeping everyone fed. She sighed and sat on a bench placed near the water, deliberately facing away from her fellows, taking a moment to be alone with her thoughts. The night was free of any wind, which she took to be an ill omen, but it did make the lake particularly still and a good reflecting surface for the stars above. It had all been so easy at first. The Lunars were oppressors, they tried to abolish Orlanth... Orlanth! Savior of the world! Gathering allies to throw off the yoke of the Red Moon was almost too easy. But afterwards was when the problems began. Some had prospered under the Empire, others had been harmed, even grievously when the revolt occurred. All-in-all, things were better but not perfect, no, never perfect. "Doing right, doing good, doing well... so different, yet all important!" She got up and looked into the still waters. The reflection was almost perfect... but flawed enough to hide the faint wrinkles forming around her eyes. That, and other signs, caused her to say, "Ay, me. Soon I will be serving another Goddess, I think. Goddesses... what shall I do? How can we protect our people?" Thinking of the suffering of the past and what was to come, a tear fell from her eye into the water, spreading the only ripples on the surface of the lake. She sucked in a breath suddenly when she saw that the ripples were pushing the reflections of the stars awy, leaving a perfect blackness behind. She could not pull her eyes from it, nor did she want to as she felt the power of the Gods come upon her. The vision poured into her and through her and she was enlightened. She awakened three days later. Of course, none of the others belived her. And, truthfully, there were reasons to doubt even if they trusted her retelling. Prophecy, with the coming of Linear Time, was a muddy thing, at best. Rife with contradictions and paradoxes, it had proven a weak reed to count upon, much less plan around. Her tale of murder, betrayal and ruin, even if followed by ultimate redemption was too much for mortal hearts to bear. The talk moved from disbelief to ridicule... attacking her helped relieve the shadow on their souls that whispered that all their suffering, accomplishment and sacrifices were for naught. Even so, her bravery and contributions of the past might have swayed some if not for the path set by the vision. To take hundreds of pregnant women into the wastes to hide until they bring forth a hero? Even the most credulous thought this was madness! In the end, she had gathered her supporters (those that hadn't abandoned her after her vision was announced) and safely made it to the wastes after Starbrow's fall and the burning of Boldhome. Before she left, though, she cried on a hill near the old lake as she saw the Red Moon come over the horizon and made the water look like blood. Even those who had left her cause didn't reveal her secret. Perhaps out of old loyalty or perhaps they realized the rightness of her prophecy. As they travelled (and a long, hard journey it was!), the women suffered terribly. The priestess, now serving Asrelia, walked with them despite her age. The new Ernalda priestess came to her side. "I don't know how much longer some of them can go on, matriarch. The toll of the journey..." her voice stopped, choked with emotion. "They will because they must. Let the weakest ride in the carts as much as we can spare. Our food grows lighter by the day which is a blessing now and a curse for later." She shook her head and a stray strand of grey hair came loose and she pushed it back tiredly. Still, the certainty in her eye never wavered. Though she hated herself for it, she regretted each death more for the chance that the savior might have died than for the young women who trusted her. Stretching behind them were unmarked shallow graves of those who didn't survive but were with them in spirit. Weeks later they arrived on an unclaimed valley. She stopped and closed her eyes. Everyone halted behind her, waiting. She opened them again and looked at the plains again, at the river, at the nearby forest and the distant mountains. "This, this is the place. Everyone, rejoice! We have arrived at the lands promised!" *** The children of Vision Stead held a special place, not just in the hearts of their parents, but for the community as a whole. You see, they were the very reason the stead existed. From rebellion, to ridicule, to flight and finally to this haven… that was the vision! All for the children who would one day face the hated Lunars. As the center of the stead, they were treated well, though not coddled. One doesn’t become a hero by being kept in a nursery! Nurtured and trained, they were taken to the borders of the Godrealm during the holy times to learn and grow and gain blessings for the future. As babes, they learned of Always a Little More and the magic cauldron that could feed the village in the leanest of times. Later they learned of Raiders are Coming and how brave hearts can repel any danger. They learned of the Gods and their own place in the cosmos. Most of all, they learned of the Prophecy. Though the details could be somewhat different, the outline was stark and clear: a child of the Stead would be the Shieldman of the Liberator and the finder of the Prince Who Was Promised. Together they would make the moon go dark. Forever. If taken literally (though those familiar with prophecy would never be so foolish!), the holy child would be a man and amongst the FirstBorn but filtering a vision through mortal eyes was an uncertain process. So the adults took care of their girls and boy with equal care, likewise the Firstborn and Nextborn. Still, it was with great anticipation that the first new generation grew to adulthood (those that survived the harshness of the land they lived in) and stepped firmly into adulthood… and destiny.